Sara Pezzini Homicide Detective or Shy Lover?
by UltravioletViolence
Summary: Sara Pezzini was innocently sleeping until something or someone had disturbed the peace entirely...First FanFic! Enjoy...
1. The Awakening

Sara Pezzini; Homicide detective or shy lover?

The almost non-existent wind whistled around the trees while a few near-silent crickets chirped under the cloudy night sky. Some stars peeked out from under the mass of cloud so it seemed like a huge beauty bound fishing net.

The air was warm and clammy surrounding her like a blanket of heat. Sara tossed and turned uncontrollably as the trees were rapping on the windows to her bedroom and she suddenly awoke to find herself panting and gasping for a hint of cold. The Witchblade bracelet scratched her perfect flesh around her wrist. She flinched.

"Ouch!"

She swiped her forehead with one hand and was disgusted to find it red hot and dripping with sweat.

"Must be catching a virus or something." Sara said in her exhausted state.

"Work down the PD has been troublesome lately what with the Microwave murder case and all." She sighed.

She carried on mumbling as she struggled out of bed and slipped on a silken gown. Perfect. Her body was outlined by the clinging silk and her curvaceous, toned body was enough to bring Gods to their knees. The gown's silken belt sat elegantly on her hips. She looked like a **temptress**.

As she headed for the bedroom door handle, she stopped. Something stirred on the balcony.

"That damn cat!"

Next doors' cat seemed to be a magically talented acrobat and took great pleasure in storming my balcony every other night.

But was it something more sinister than a wretched cat?

Sara almost accurately noticed a flick of a long black coat and launched into protective mode. Her stance was spread and her hands at the ready to reveal blowing punches. In a **silk gown!?!**

As quick as she could she jolted over her bed in a rehearsed roll and grabbed the legendary .357 Snub-Nosed Revolver from the side table. She regained her standpoint aiming the revolver at the windows. It seemed very disturbed outside. The almost non-existent wind suddenly became existent and ripped through the garden while the leaves from the trees blew about like vicious bubbles.

She waited impatiently as her grip around the revolver tightened. Her finger was sharply pressed against the trigger as though any second she could blast seven shades of Hell from the sky…

**Are you ready?**

* * *


	2. The Unexpected Meeting

Her finger grew tighter around the trigger. A droplet of sweat crashed to the ground from her searing hot forehead and she breathed heavily out of her nose. Her teeth were gritted tightly together as though she was trying to crush every single tooth she had and adrenaline seethed through her body.

Suddenly, the balcony doors flew open with a spine tingling smash of glass as every single pane of glass shattered violently on the floor!

A dark heavily built figure soared in through the door and swept Sara from under her feet!

She couldn't believe it; a crushing blow. How come she didn't pull the trigger? Why didn't she react? Her reactions were always on top form so what were different this time? She lifelessly dropped the snub-nose.

A large masculine hand grasped around her little petite waist and snatched her up like a lifeless nymph. She felt a flush of heat but most of all she wasn't even the least bit frightened.

Raven black hair circled around Sara's back as it fluidly moved; so elegant. Then a deep and sultry voice emerged from the mysterious being.

"Don't be frightened Sara…"

There was an extended silence.

"I'm not." She replied hesitantly.

"Very well, you won't mind if I take you then…"

"Take me where? What are you on about?"

Sara panted like a cautious vixen.

"To your wildest dreams…"

"How do you know of my wildest dreams?" she said angrily.

The shaded man's silken hair moved slowly from his face revealing the broad, muscular and handsome Ian Nottingham.

Sara recognised his face instantly and gasped with an orgasmic feminine breath. It was the same man who was notoriously Kenneth Irons right hand hit man. The man who betrayed her and then in end protected Sara. But…why is he not dead?

Sara pondered why and more importantly how! Didn't he die that night that Irons threw him off the building? Is this why the Witchblade didn't react to this so-called danger?

Nottingham pulled Sara closer to his muscular chest.

"Will you come?" Ian asked.

Sara was still in awe and trying to breathe. She didn't know how to react; whether to be consumed with happiness or rage. After all he did betray her in the first place. She felt alone and no closer to Ian than she does a random stranger.

"Why are you here? To finish off Iron's dirty work now he's gone?"

Sara was subconsciously hitting herself with a stick. She knew that was undoubtedly something wrong to say and especially in the presence of this sex-god who at that present moment was making her shiver with anxiousness.

Nottingham dropped her suddenly. She made an innocent squeak from hitting the cold hard floor. She lay there in a vulnerable state with her hand on her forehead.

He turned to leave.

"Ian!" She stretched out her hand.

He stopped but was still facing the balcony in an ignorant manner.

"Don't leave…"

He turned his head slightly and consequentially carried on towards the door. Within a moment he was gone…

**What was she thinking?**


End file.
